Realization: A Very Brief Quarrel
by OhioOwl
Summary: Maggie/Margarita recalls a previous meeting with El Zorro and is less than pleased.


**Realization: A Very Brief Quarrel**

 **A/N: 1) This story takes place approximately two months after Maggie/Margarita and Diego's wedding. It will make more sense if you have read Chapter 12,** _ **Performance**_ **, of "The Marriage of Three Hearts".**

 **2)** _ **Canalla**_ **means "cad" or "scoundrel" in Spanish.**

The _Señor_ and _Señora_ De la Vega were enjoying a pleasant picnic luncheon along one of their favorite riding routes. They were near the top of a hill which gave view down a gentle slope to a valley where a stream meandered south. Diego was leaning back against a tree, and Margarita was lying back against him, her head on his chest. He was slowly slicing up one of the apples that Rosa had provided, eating one slice himself and feeding the next to her. "I love this place," she murmured. The valley is so green, there is always a breeze, and no matter when we are here there are always plenty of flowers in bloom."

"It is indeed beautiful, _querida_ ," her husband replied.

She was letting her eyes wander across the valley and then suddenly she stopped. She sat up and began to look closely at the nearby blossoms. "Flowers..." she murmured quietly. A moment later: "He brought me flowers", this time louder. Finally her expression darkened and her eyes widened and she said yet a third time, still louder: "Flowers." She pulled away from Diego. "You!" she cried, punching him in the shoulder.

"What?!" asked Diego, completely taken aback.

"You!" she cried again, punching him harder.

"WHAT?!"

"You — you! — you — _canalla_!

"Margarita, I am happy that your Spanish vocabulary is increasing, but would you kindly tell me what this is about?!" he exclaimed, shifting and trying to get away from her fist.

She glared at him, brows furrowed, mouth set in a straight line. Then she spoke, lowering her voice in imitation of his own: "Don Diego is an honorable man and if he finds me here he might feel obligated to defend you. And then I would be obligated to defend myself. And then who knows what might happen when swords cross?"

Her husband threw back his head and collapsed back against the tree, shaking with laughter.

"You were making fun of me!" she cried, pulling away from him. Again she imitated his voice: "Summon the _vaqueros_! El Zorro has been here! We must search the house! Has he harmed you? Perhaps I should put on a sword!"

He was now laughing so hard he could barely speak. "No, _querida_ , I assure you I was not making fun of you." He took a deep breath to recover, then continued. "At that time it was still very important that people believe that Zorro and Diego were two different men. You were a relative newcomer to the _pueblo_ , with no reason to care about Zorro one way or the other. I thought that if you said you had seen Diego and Zorro at the same time, people would believe you. And since it was such a short distance from the garden through the study up to my room and out to the balcony, I hoped that I could convince you that you actually had seen Diego and Zorro at the same time."

"But really, did you have to put on such a show?"

He was laughing again, although not as hard. "I did not have much of a choice. I had to give you a reason for me to leave quickly. After all, I could hardly fight a duel with myself, could I?"

Her irritation was beginning to ebb. "I suppose it was Bernardo walking up on the balcony?"

"Yes, it was. But please don't hold it against him. He only did it because I insisted. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it."

She tilted her head and looked at him sideways. "Bernardo tried to _talk_ you out of it?"

"Perhaps 'dissuade' would be a better word," he conceded. "And besides, Zorro did promise that he would bring you more flowers, and a true _caballero_ never fails to keep his promises to a lady.

"I will grant you that keeping your promise was a good thing. I will also grant you that I like flowers. But I still haven't forgiven you for your deception." She turned her back to him, her arms crossed in front of her in an exaggerated pout.

"Ah, _querida_ , I see l must find a way to earn your forgiveness. Let me see...Shall I return to Spain and make a great fortune as a swordsman and earn the favor of the king, then come and lay a chest of gold at your feet?"

"That would take much too long," she replied, curtly.

He slid a few inches toward her. "Well then, supposed I journey to Mexico City and purchase a fabulous jewel — an emerald, perhaps, to match your eyes — then offer it up to you on bended knee."

"Better," she allowed with a small smile, "although you already did that when you asked me to marry you, remember?. But that would still take too long."

"Ah yes, I did. Hmmm. Perhaps," he said, snuggling up to her back, placing his hands on her shoulders, and speaking softly into her ear, "I should go up to Monterey, find a supply ship, and present you with enough silk for a dozen dresses."

"You're getting close," she said, leaning back into him again.

"But now, alas, I am out of ideas," he replied with exaggerated dismay. "Am I doomed to live forever without your love and forgiveness? How could you condemn your devoted husband — he kissed her ear — to such a fate?"

"All right," she replied with a giggle. "You can begin by slicing us another apple. After that I might have something else in mind...

 __ The rest is left to the imagination of the reader__


End file.
